


Jealous

by myriddin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 18:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10393791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: Prompt: "I was wondering about life now in Winterfell I bet Sansa is jealous of the Free Folk and how Jon fits there. I'm sure Val is daily training in the yards with them, and Sansa thinks she is one of Jon's mistresses."





	

Though shame would never allow her to admit such a thing, though it made her sick with self-loathing to consciously acknowledge, Sansa Stark was jealous.

Oh, how she hated herself of every time that familiar bitter feeling welled up inside her when she saw Jon drill in the yard or break his fast, surrounded by camaraderie and familiarity she wasn’t part of, to see him smile and chuckle and know she wasn’t the cause. It was a spike to her heart every time he listened with patient fondness to Sam’s latest find in the library, every grin or roll of his eyes at Grenn and Pyp’s bickering or Edd’s dry pessimism, every time he tussled in the yard or bantered with Tormund and his sons.

Every time he sparred, verbally or otherwise, with Lady Val, the fierce beauty their men called Princess of the Freefolk in awed whispers.

Sansa wasn’t fond of the feeling, but somehow, someway, Jon had become her entire world, and she jealously, desperately, wanted to hold onto him. What she continued trying to convince herself of (but her heart kept resisting), was that he had never been hers to hold onto.

Part of him was already gone, if the dark-haired babe she’d seen Val hitch up onto her hip was any indication.

Still, her and Jon’s position at Winterfell was precarious as the last of their house, and if Jon had a potential heir, it was imperative that the boy should be properly acknowledged. Likely that Jon should take his mother to wife as well. There was little way better to cement the Free Folk’s position in the new North as well as stop the infighting between the noble houses over whose daughter Jon should marry.

Sansa thought she was doing relatively well being pragmatic and keeping herself together when she went to Sam to discuss the matter, only for the maester to blink owlishly at her in complete confusion. “I…King Jon has no children that I know of, my lady. The child you speak of is Dallan Rayder, Lady Val’s nephew. As for what may lay between the lady and His Grace, of that I am not certain, my lady.”

Chagrined over her misassumption, the feeling only grew later that afternoon when Jon came charging into her solar, backing her into her desk with the sheer intensity of his gaze before he was right there before her, taking her mouth in a hot, hard kiss that left little doubt over his intentions.

Abandoning all decorum, Sansa twined her arms around his neck, straining against him to get as close as possible. Then Jon was lifting her onto the ironwood desk, her skirts shifting with the movement and allowing her to wrap her legs around his hips. She mewled with pleasure as he rocked into her and they broke apart to stare at one another with dark, hooded eyes.

“Whatever may have been between Val and I was long over before you and I ever reunited. She only has eyes for Toregg and I…there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t want you, Sansa.”

As she pulled him back into another kiss and began rucking up his tunic to slide her hands underneath, that familiar bitter feeling was finally settled and quiet.  


End file.
